Friday Free-For-All
Sep. 16th, 2011 04:02 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficHappy Friday! As you all know, this is the day we bless the gods of writing by not following a theme and just writing what we want.
All we ask is that you follow our rules:
only 5 posts per person and 3 per fandom. If one of your prompts is filled you can post again.
No spoilers! Any prompt with spoiler content must be clearly marked, with spoiler prompts answered with a warning and 3 lines.
Please be kind to our code monkeys and follow the format below:
Lost Girl, Bo/and Kenzi, sleepovers
True Blood/Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Eric/Buffy, a real vampire...
Nothing suits you? Take a peek at our Lost Prompts list over to your left.
Enjoy!!!
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no subject
Date: 2011-09-16 08:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-16 09:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-16 09:30 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2011-09-16 10:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-16 10:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-16 11:31 am (UTC)the people's princess - PG, het
Date: 2011-09-19 05:24 am (UTC)(This may be of interest to you.)
The first year is spent breathless, clinging to her husband's hand, listening to everything her tutors and mother-in-law have to say. She is not a fool, but she has been a servant for the past ten years and now - one day, she will wear a crown and sit on a throne. She must be prepared, and bright, ready for all sorts of calamities that a little cinder girl could not even comprehend.
The people love her. The courtiers, not so much.
But her husband – he is patient, he is kind, he dances with her around their chamber and kisses her so fervently she can finally believe this is no soon-to-be-woken-from dream.
0o0
The second year, the queen suffers a fit during her morning walk and dies before the doctor can reach her.
A month later, the king succumbs to a wasting disease that everyone knows is a broken heart.
When her husband is crowned, the people’s princess is crying. When she is crowned, she is crying still.
0o0
She is not ready. How could she be? Not two years ago, she was cleaning out the fireplace.
Her husband kisses her hand, smiling the gentle smile he wore when her foot fit the slipper.
The people love her. The courtiers give her painted smiles. She speaks to the servants like they have thoughts, and she visits the marketplace weekly, taking only two guards, without her crown or royal gown.
She had been a noble’s daughter, but she was a slave for longer, and if she is to ever look back with pride, then she must be the people’s princess. The commoner queen.
She explains it to her husband during the night, their fingers tangled and her head on his chest. She knows that life is more than balls and gowns and parties, expensive food and jewels and cloth. He listens and looks at her and tells her that she is the queen and to do what feels right.
0o0
She holds her head high and buys a flower from a girl in dirty rags. She smiles and orders a bolt of cloth from a stall staffed by a tired woman. She speaks to a tavern owner about the best way to get rid of smoke’s stench and asks a young pickpocket if he has a roof over his head at night.
Her guard follows her with a scowl, but he stands back as she speaks to the people, keeping one eye on the roofs and one on the crowd.
This is only the first year of her reign, the second since the ball. None of these commoners know who she is, yet. They talk openly, not censoring the truth about how they feel, how they think their new king and queen are doing.
But she is the people’s princess, the commoner’s queen. Soon, they will all recognize her.
0o0
When she is old and grey, she well still sneak away to mingle. Few will not know her then, but they will all let her think she succeeds in fooling them.
Her husband will listen to her tales of the marketplace and the streets, the flower girl and the pickpocket, the rough meal she laughs her way through.
She will die still called the people’s princess, the commoner’s queen.
Re: the people's princess - PG, het
From:Re: the people's princess - PG, het
From:no subject
Date: 2011-09-16 11:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-16 12:00 pm (UTC)No fic...
Date: 2011-09-16 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-16 12:00 pm (UTC)No fic yet...
Date: 2011-09-16 02:14 pm (UTC)Re: No fic yet...
From:no subject
Date: 2011-09-16 12:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-16 12:01 pm (UTC)Fill
Date: 2011-09-16 08:18 pm (UTC)But sometimes Silas just wanted to settle down and watch the seasons pass for a time, to care for some animals, see them born, train them, breed them, and watch the generations pass. His brothers understand this, or at least Kronos does and Kronos makes sure the others do as well.
His brothers each have their own interests as well, but since Silas’ wildernesses are the most stable, they generally gather to him again when they return from their individual jaunts.
Kronos likes to join militaries, sometimes, likes to conquer a city and rule it, likes for a whole people to look to him for protection as well as destruction. Of the four of them, he is the one who is most often called a god.
Caspian is the most like a god, though. He’s the one who hears voices. Sometimes he’ll obey the voices, sometimes he’ll deny them, but when the voices speak, the four of them all know to pay attention.
Methos is the most easily bored. He doesn’t settle like the three of them. He’s a grand storyteller but he’s never satisfied with the stories that keep the rest of them entertained. He always wants something more, something new. He’s the one who leaves to explore on his own the most often and he returns the quickest.
When they’re all apart for a while, he’ll often rotate between the three of them. He’ll spend a season training the animals with Silas and then go to be Kronos’ adviser and then on to be Caspian’s disciple before going out on his own to apprentice himself to learn some new skill. He’s like a butterfly, Silas thinks, skipping from this flower to that one, never settling.
The only way to keep him in one place would be to pin him down and then he wouldn’t be who he is anymore. But for a thousand years, in all his wanderings Methos has always returned to the three of them, to their riding and raiding and causing the land.
Silas is joyful each time Methos returns to them, but he is also surprised. He doesn’t tell any of them this, not Kronos or Caspian, not even Methos himself. But he is surprised each and every time over the course of those thousand years that Methos returns to them.
When Methos leaves and doesn’t return, that final time, Kronos first gets frustrated, wondering when he’ll return. Caspian becomes worried, that something has happened. Kronos becomes enraged that his brother has vanished. But Silas… Silas knows that his eldest brother was never theirs to keep, not permanently. He returned to them a hundred times, but before Methos could ever have returned he had to have left them.
Re: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:no subject
Date: 2011-09-16 12:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-16 02:16 pm (UTC)Eliot never called himself lucky.
After he left Moreau's service, things went from bad to worse. When he slept, he saw what he had done. When he was awake, he didn't use his own name or use his own contacts. Growing out his hair was as much a rebellion against the military that abandoned him as a choice in personal expression.
When Dubenich found him, he'd been casing a couple of Mafiosos in a bar. And he'd nearly taken the businessman's head off when he pointed out Eliot's poor life choices. He knew it was his fault that he'd gone from retrieving artifacts for the rich and powerful to punching people in the face, but he really didn't need some asswipe like Dubenich to remind him.
He was only just into his thirties. Eliot knew his salad days shouldn't be behind him and he definitely knew that they shouldn't have been with Damien Moreau. That was about eighty kinds of wrong. He'd made a list once, when he couldn't sleep on the plane out of Morocco. But he had blood on his hands and in his eyes and now Eliot Spencer was needed and his once-skilled light touch was abandoned.
When he waited for Nathan Ford to wake up in that hospital bed, Eliot assumed that it was just his run of bad luck continuing. They had his prints. When Parker and Hardison and Ford went to jail for whatever Dubenich set them up for, Eliot would, too. And he'd have to face the fact that he was officially MIA and a whole mess of enemies who wanted him dead, even if he was inside a prison cell.
Somehow, with the whirl and rush and chaos that became Leverage, Inc, Eliot didn't have a chance to think about his luck for another few years. It was odd, given how often he'd taken to ruminating over it with a couple of beers and an old hockey game on TV.
But, when he kicked back in Boston with Hardison and a stupid fishing video game, and he was fresh out of a side retrieval job in Macao and Hardison had spent the day hacking into Fort Knox, Eliot realised that his luck really had changed that day he'd been cuffed and printed and shared a hospital room with Nathan Ford.
(no subject)
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Date: 2011-09-16 12:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-16 01:33 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2011-09-16 02:05 pm (UTC)